Walking near Coolidge Corner, we bask in the delicious presentness of those whose destination is love.
A lull in our conversation -- A streetcar stutters, lurching-- Then you smile. An arc on the overhead lines; a snap; a shower of sparks from beneath the wheels. The trolley jolts, picking up speed.
Energized, too, by the radiance of your smile, I feel an elemental pull that seems to say 'now, if you're smart, you'll press closer to me.
J.D. in the Wry Holden Caufield taught us that everybody is fucked up Innocence exists only in isolated pockets Even these are under siege Most people are bumbling idiots, incapable of finding happiness
